John Grisham - The Fugitive

“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.

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.