The Fugitive (2 page)

M
r. Babcock was waiting at the Woodley Park Station, and he was not happy. Theo apologized repeatedly, fibbing that he had been caught in the crush of people and simply could not get off the train in time. Theo did not like the fact that he was being forced to lie. It was wrong and he tried to tell the truth at all times. However, occasionally he found himself in the awkward position of having to fudge on the truth for a good reason. On the subway, he had made the quick decision that it was more important to try and nail Pete Duffy than to get off when and where he was supposed to. If he got off with his classmates, Duffy would be gone, and a great chance to nail him would have been missed. Now, if he admitted to Mr. Babcock that he had deliberately stayed on the train, then all sorts of bad stuff would happen. He could not tell the truth about Pete Duffy, not now anyway, because he had no idea what to do with the truth. He needed some time alone to think things through.

He needed to talk to Uncle Ike.

For the moment, though, he was forced to apologize to Mr. Babcock, who was a nervous type to begin with. Back at the hotel, Mr. Babcock marched Theo over to Mr. Mount and made a full report of his student's misdeed. As soon as Mr. Babcock walked away, Theo mumbled, “That guy just needs to relax.”

Mr. Mount, who trusted Theo and knew that if any kid could survive in the big city it was Theodore Boone, agreed and said, “Don't do it again, okay? Just pay attention to where you are.”

“Sure,” Theo said.
If you only knew.

Dinner was a pizza party in a hotel ballroom. Seating was not regulated; you could sit anywhere you wanted. So, typically, the boys took one side of the room and the girls the other. Theo nibbled on some crust and sipped water from a bottle, but his mind was not on pizza. He was certain he had seen Pete Duffy. He even remembered the way the man walked as he was entering and leaving the courthouse during his trial. It was the same walk. The same height and body type. Definitely the same eyes, nose, forehead, and chin. Theo had locked himself in his hotel bathroom and watched the video on his phone a dozen times.

Theo had found Pete Duffy! He still couldn't believe it and he was still uncertain about what to do next, but in his excitement he had almost forgotten something important. Since Duffy had fled town, the police had posted a $100,000 reward for information leading to his arrest and conviction. In his room before dinner, Theo had gone online and verified this reward. The Strattenburg police website had several pages dedicated to the Duffy case. There were several close-up photos of his face.

• • •

Cell phones were strictly prohibited during meals—if one was seen by an adult it was to be immediately confiscated. Halfway through the pizza party, Theo informed Mr. Mount that he needed to walk down the hallway to the restroom. Once inside, Theo locked himself in a stall and called Ike.

“I thought you were in Washington,” Ike said.

“I am. Ike, I saw Pete Duffy on the Metro. I know it's him.”

“I thought he was in Cambodia or some place.”

“Not now. He's right here in Washington. I got him on video. I'll e-mail it to you right now. Take a look and I'll call you later.”

“You're serious, aren't you?” Ike said, his voice suddenly sharper.

“Dead serious. Later.” Theo quickly e-mailed the video to Ike, then left the restroom and hustled back to the ballroom.

After dinner, when it was dark, the entire eighth grade loaded onto the four buses and headed for the Lincoln Memorial. There, they milled about the famous statue of Lincoln sitting and staring seriously—
did the guy ever smile?
Theo wondered—while clutching the sides of his chair. The lights cast even more shadows on his face, and Theo found it all quite awesome. With the assistance of a park ranger, Mr. Babcock, who evidently was a big Lincoln fan, set up a large screen at the foot of the steps—fifty-eight steps to be exact—and the students gathered around for a quick lecture. They listened in perfect silence as Mr. Babcock recapped the significant events of Lincoln's life, material they had all covered in class, which now meant much more sitting on the steps of his memorial. As he spoke, Mr. Babcock, who was a compelling teacher, flashed photos of Lincoln as he advanced through his life.

Though the students were sitting on marble steps, there was no wiggling and no whispering. They absorbed the lecture with great interest. When Theo looked away, he gazed upon the awesome sight of the Reflecting Pool just in front of them. Beyond it, a mile away, was the towering Washington Monument, also lit to perfection. And beyond that, another mile away, was the US Capitol, its dome glowing magnificently in the night. When Theo turned around, he found President Lincoln staring down at them.

Theo knew it was a moment he would never forget.

They gave Mr. Babcock a round of applause when he finished. Next up was Ms. Greenwood, a popular African American lady who taught English to the girls. She began by asking the students to look all the way down to the Washington Monument and to try to imagine the Mall packed with almost a quarter of a million people. The day was August 28, 1963, and black people from all over America had marched on Washington to demand justice and equality. They were led by a young Baptist minister from Atlanta named Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

As she spoke, she flashed images onto the screen, photos of the crowd that day, of people marching and carrying signs. She explained that Dr. King delivered one of the most famous speeches in American history, right over there on a temporary podium, under the proud gaze of the president who ended slavery. She then played a tape of the speech, black-and-white footage of Dr. King and his dream.

Theo had seen and heard the speech before, but it was far more moving at that moment. As Dr. King's words echoed through the night, Theo looked down the Mall and tried to imagine what it was like that day, with thousands of people packed together and listening to words that would live forever.

They applauded for Ms. Greenwood, too, when she finished. Mr. Mount said there would be no more lectures. The students were allowed to hang around the Reflecting Pool for an hour or so. Theo found a seat on a park bench and texted Ike:
Did you get video? What do you think?

Evidently, Ike was waiting:
I'd say it's p duffy. Let's talk.

Okay. Later.

• • •

Later, at the hotel, as his three roommates were watching television and waiting on the ‘lights-out' order from Mr. Mount, Theo went to the bathroom, locked the door, and took a seat on the toilet. He called Ike, who again seemed to be waiting with the phone in his hand. He asked, “Have you told anyone?”

“Of course not,” Theo said. “No one but you. What are we going to do?”

“I've been thinking and I have a plan. I'll catch an early flight to DC and land at National around noon. I want to be on the subway when he gets on this afternoon and follow him as closely as I can. I need the time, the station, and the Metro line.”

Theo had already taken notes and had it memorized. “It's the Red Line. We got on at the Metro Center Station, and I'm positive he was already on the train.”

“How many cars on the train?”

“Uh, just guessing, I would say seven or eight.”

“And which car did you get in?”

“Don't know, but somewhere close to the middle.”

“What time was it?”

“Somewhere between four thirty and five. He stayed on the Red Line and got off at the Tenleytown Station. I followed him for about three blocks before I lost him. I didn't want to get too far from the station; not exactly my neck of the woods, you know.”

“Okay, that's all I need. I'll be there tomorrow. I'm assuming you're tied up all day.”

“All day and all night. We're doing the Smithsonian tomorrow.”

“Have fun. I'll text you tomorrow night.”

Theo was relieved to have an adult involved, even if the adult was Uncle Ike. He was worried, though, about the old guy's appearance. Ike was in his mid-sixties and not aging that well. He wore his white hair long and tied in a ponytail. He had a scraggly gray beard, and usually wore funky T-shirts, battered old jeans, weird eyeglasses, and sandals, even in cold weather. All in all, Ike Boone was the kind of person who attracts more attention than deflects it. He tended to keep to himself, but he was still known around town. If Pete Duffy had ever met Ike, or seen him, there was a good chance he would remember him. Surely Ike would go heavy on the disguises.

In the darkness, and long after the other three had sacked out, Theo stared at the ceiling and thought of Pete Duffy and the murder he committed. On the one hand, he was thrilled to be involved in his capture. But, on the other, he was terrified over what it could mean. Pete Duffy had some dangerous friends, and they were still hanging around Strattenburg.

If it was indeed Pete Duffy, and if they caught him and hauled him back for another trial, Theo would not want his name mentioned.

Ike? He wouldn't care. Ike had survived three years in prison. He feared nothing.

A
t nine a.m. Friday, the four buses from Strattenburg pulled up to the east entrance of the Smithsonian Institution and all the eighth graders spilled out. The Smithsonian is the largest museum in the world, and a person could spend a week there and not see everything. In planning the day, Mr. Mount had explained to his class that the Smithsonian is actually a group of nineteen different museums and a zoo, along with a bunch of collections and galleries, and eleven of the nineteen are located on the Mall. It is home to about 138 million items, everything imaginable, and is nicknamed the “nation's attic.” Thirty million people each year visit the Smithsonian.

The students divided into groups. Theo and about forty others headed for the National Air and Space Museum. They spent two hours there, then regrouped and headed for the National Museum of American History.

At two thirty, Theo received a text from Ike that read:
In town, about to check out the Metro system.
Theo was tired of museums and wished he could sneak away and do detective work with Ike. By five p.m., he felt as though he had seen at least 100 million items and needed a break. They boarded the buses and returned to the hotel for dinner.

At six forty-five, while Theo was resting in his room and watching television, he received another text from Ike:
Downstairs in lobby. Can u come down?

Theo replied:
Sure.
He told Chase, Woody, and Aaron that his uncle had stopped by the hotel and wanted to say hello. Minutes later, he was walking through the lobby and couldn't find Ike. Finally, a man sitting in a coffee bar waved at him, and Theo realized it was his uncle. Dark suit, brown leather shoes, white shirt, no tie, and some type of beret on his head that covered most of his white hair. The rest, the long part, was stuffed under his collar. Theo would never have recognized him.

Ike was sipping coffee and smiling at his favorite nephew. “So how's the great tour of Washington going?” he asked.

Theo gave a heavy sigh as if he were exhausted. He rattled off the adventures of the day at the Smithsonian, and said, “Tonight, we're watching a documentary film at the Newseum. Tomorrow we do the Washington Monument, and then visit the war memorials. Sunday, we see the Capitol, the White House, and the Jefferson Memorial, and by Monday I think I'll be ready to head home.”

“But you're having fun, right?”

“Sure, a lot of fun. Ford's Theatre was pretty cool. So was the Lincoln Memorial. Did you see Pete Duffy?”

“Are you going to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial?”

“Yes, it's on the schedule.”

“Well, when you get there, look for the name of Joel Furniss. We grew up together and finished high school at the same time. He was the first boy from Stratten County to be killed in Vietnam, in 1965. There were four others, and their names are on the monument outside our courthouse. You've probably seen it.”

“I have. I see it all the time. We studied that war in history, and, I gotta say, I really don't understand it.”

“Well, neither did we. It was a national tragedy.” Ike took a sip of coffee and seemed to gaze far away for a moment.

“Did you see Pete Duffy?” Theo asked.

“Oh yes,” Ike said, snapping back and glancing around, as if the wrong people might be listening. No one was sitting within thirty feet. Theo glanced into the wide, open lobby and saw Mr. Mount walk through in the distance.

Ike continued, “I camped out in the Judiciary Square Station, two stops before Metro Center, where you guys got on yesterday. I saw no one who looked familiar. The train arrived at four forty-five. Eight cars. I got in number three, looked around as quickly as possible, did not see anyone. At the Metro Center stop, I moved to the fourth car. No one. At the Farragut North Station, I moved to the fifth car, and, bingo. It was crowded, as you said, and I slowly moved closer to the man we're calling Pete Duffy. He was lost behind his newspaper, but I could see the side of his face. He never looked up, never looked around, he was lost in his own world. I backed away and stayed hidden in the crowd. As we approached the Tenleytown Station, he folded his newspaper and stood up. When the train stopped, he got off. I tagged along and was able to follow him to a small apartment building on Forty-Fourth Street. He ducked inside. I assume that's where he's hiding.”

“Why would he hide in Washington? Why not Mexico or Australia?”

“Because that's where we expect him to be. Often, it's the guy who's hiding in plain sight that's never discovered.”

“I saw a movie one time where this guy was running from the FBI, and he had all kinds of plastic surgery to redo his face. You think Duffy's done that?”

“No, but he's definitely changed hair color and grown a mustache. He's wearing glasses, but they're fake. I watched him read the newspaper, and he did so while looking over his glasses.”

“So why is he here?”

“Don't know, but he could be waiting on a fresh set of papers—driver's license, birth certificate, Social Security card, passport. There are a lot of good forgers here in DC, shady outfits that can produce all manner of paperwork that looks legitimate. It's not easy leaving the country on the run, and it can be even harder entering another country without good paperwork. Also, maybe he's staying close to his money. Maybe he has a friend or two here and they're helping him plan his escape. I don't know, Theo, but I'll bet he's not staying here for long.”

“Okay, Uncle Ike, you're the adult. What's the plan?”

“Well, we have to move fast. My flight doesn't leave until noon tomorrow, so I'm thinking about getting up early and getting back on the train. I'll try and pick him up at the Tenleytown Station and follow him in, try and see where he goes during the day. I'm going to be very careful because if he gets suspicious he'll just vanish again. Then I'll hop on the plane and be back in Strattenburg tomorrow night. Have you ever heard of some software called FuzziFace?”

“No. What is it?”

“You download it, costs about a hundred bucks, and you match up photographs of faces to identify whoever you're looking for. I'll find an old photo of Pete Duffy, probably one from the newspaper's archives, and try to match it with a still shot from your video. If it nails him, the next step is to go to the police. I play poker every Thursday night with a retired detective named Slats Stillman, an old guy who's still in thick with the police chief. I'm thinking of running it by Slats and getting his advice. I figure the police will move quick. With some luck, they'll have Duffy in custody in a matter of days. They'll hustle him back to Strattenburg for another trial.”

“A big trial, right?”

“Just like the last one, only Duffy will also face charges of taking flight and being a fugitive. His goose is cooked, Theo, and you're the hero.”

“I don't want to be the hero, Ike. I keep thinking about Omar Cheepe and Paco and those other tough guys who work for Pete Duffy. I'm sure they're still around. I don't want my name mentioned.”

“I'm sure we can keep things quiet.”

“And if there's a big trial, that means Bobby Escobar will have to testify.”

“Of course it does. He's the star witness. He's still in town, right?”

“I think so, but . . . the last time I talked to Julio they were all living in the same apartment, still waiting on immigration documents.”

“Does Bobby still work at the golf course?”

“I think so. This worries me, Ike.”

“Look, Theo, I'm sure the police will be very careful in dealing with Bobby Escobar. The prosecution's case is pretty weak without him, and the police will protect him. We can't allow thugs to influence our judicial system. Come on, you're a lawyer, you know how important it is to have fair trials. Judge Gantry will be in charge, and if he gets wind of any type of threats made to a witness, he'll lower the boom on Duffy and his gang. It's time to step up.”

Theo suspected that Ike's eagerness to nail Duffy and to protect the idea of fair trials also had something to do with the reward money: $100,000.

Theo said, “I need to go. Be careful tomorrow.”

“I'm not getting caught, Theo. You didn't recognize me, did you?”

“No, and you look nice for a change, almost like a real lawyer.”

“Gee, thanks. And I have another disguise for tomorrow, then, it's back to the old wardrobe.”

“Thanks for coming, Ike.”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world. I haven't had this much excitement since I got out of prison.”

“See you later.”

“You take care and have some fun. And, Theo, nice work.”

As Theo rode the elevator back to his room, he asked himself if he was doing the right thing. Bringing a murderer to justice sounded great, but there could be a price to pay. He thought about calling his parents and telling them, but such a call would only worry them. He was supposed to be in Washington having a ball as a tourist, not playing detective and stalking a killer.

He trusted his uncle. Ike always knew what to do.

• • •

Early Saturday morning, Theo, his roommates, and forty other students got off the bus near the Mall and headed toward the Washington Monument. As they got closer to it, Mr. Mount began a walking tour. He explained that the monument, built of course to honor our first president, is a true obelisk and is constructed of marble and granite. At 555 feet in height it is still the world's tallest all-stone obelisk. When it was completed in 1884, it was the tallest structure in the world, a record it held until 1889 when the Eiffel Tower was finished in Paris. Construction was started in 1848, and it took six years to build the first 150 feet. Then, for a number of reasons, including a shortage of money and the Civil War, work on the monument was halted for twenty-three years.

Theo wasn't sure about the other students, but after two days of nonstop history lessons, the dates and numbers were beginning to run together.

They gathered at the base of the monument, waited in line for almost an hour, then entered the ground floor lobby. A friendly park ranger guided them to an elevator and locked the door. Seventy seconds later, they stepped out and onto an observation deck five hundred feet above the ground. The views were stunning. To the west were the Reflecting Pool and the Lincoln Memorial. To the north were The Ellipse and the White House. To the east was the magnificent US Capitol. To the southeast were the Smithsonian and rows of government buildings. Below the observation deck was a museum filled with even more history.

After two long hours, the students were ready to move on. They descended in the elevator and left the lobby.

At eleven forty-six, Theo got a text from Ike:
No sign of Duffy. Must have different routine for Sat. At airport, headed home. C U there.